


All the Times Yuuri ran from Viktor, and the One Time He Didn't

by Reisil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5 Times, Confessions, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Sexual Content, Sleeping Together, Smut, mutual feelings, neck kisses, slight angst, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8631589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reisil/pseuds/Reisil
Summary: Or, the five times Yuuri ran from Viktor, and the time that Viktor held on.In which Yuuri finds that he is constantly running from Viktor, until Viktor decides he's had enough.





	

 

            The first time Yuuri Katsuki ran from Viktor Nikiforov was at the Grand Prix final in Sochi. The competition had been tough on Yuuri’s self-esteem; having come in dead last with a decidedly lower score than the rest of the skaters, and then being yelled at by some up and coming Russian punk had Yuuri wanting to go home and curl up in the fetal position. It was also the first time Yuuri had met Viktor—his idol, and had promptly turned and left without as much as a word to the genius skater.

            Yuuri had spent so much time idolizing Viktor Nikiforov that when faced with the actual man he became overwhelmed. Already in tears because of his terrible performance at the Final, and the repeated blows to his confidence, as well as the fresh loss of his best friend, the idea that his all-time idol would also find fault in him was unbearable to Yuuri. So, when the man turned and offered a photo op to remember day by, Yuuri could think of no better option than to simply ignore Viktor’s offer, and leave.

            So, leave he did. Yuuri ignored the protests of both his coach and Morooka and stalked out of the venue without ever glancing back at Viktor, what he missed though, was the way that Viktor’s entire demeanor fell when he was snubbed. Because of his hasty departure, Yuuri didn’t see the way that Viktor’s eyes followed his movements, or the crestfallen pout on the man’s lips. The Grand Prix final was the first time Yuuri ran from Viktor, but it was not the last.

\--

            The second time Yuuri ran from Viktor, though not directly, was when he gave up on skating and moved back to Japan. After his failure at the Grand Prix final and the embarrassing meeting with his idol, Yuuri was discouraged and didn’t know what to do with himself. He had graduated college with decent grades and he was by no means incompetent in the work force, but he was unsure of where he wanted to be. So, he ran away from the skating scene; ended things with his coach and moved back home to ‘think’ or ‘find himself’ or whatever he could call it other than _running away._ Although, if Yuuri was being entirely honest with himself; it was running. He was running from his embarrassment and his failures, and he was running from the possibility of messing up again. He was running from his friends and fans, and ultimately, Viktor Nikiforov.

            It didn’t last long though. Soon, Yuuri was back to figure skating; he loved the sport too much to ever really give it up, though his professional skating career was still in the air. He didn’t have a coach anymore, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face everyone he’d left behind when he moved home. Yuuri was painfully aware of his own faults, and being afraid of confrontation was definitely one of them. Yuuri knew he wasn’t the most outgoing person; the main reason why his list of friends was so short, but he also didn’t like the feeling of having let someone down, which is how he felt about those he’d left when he stopped skating. So, Yuuri continued to run. He stayed home and enjoyed his family’s hot spring, he spent his days lazily, and he hid.

            The universe was a funny thing though, it never let you be somewhere you weren’t supposed to be; it never really let you get away. Viktor Nikiforov was the same way.

\--

            Viktor came into Yuuri’s life like a force of nature. One minute everything was peaceful and quiet, the next Viktor was turning everything on its head; creating general mayhem, and barging his way into Yuuri’s life.

            The third time Yuuri ran from Viktor was shortly after Viktor arrived at his family’s hot spring. Yuuri was still trying to comprehend that his idol—Viktor Nikiforov wanted to be his coach. Yuuri was making space and helping Viktor move into the room that they were providing for him when it happened. Viktor was chatting normally one minute, and the next he was in Yuuri’s personal space—touching him, getting _too_ close. Viktor suggested they get to know each other; solidify their relationship as coach and skater, but all Yuuri could think of was Viktor’s hand on his wrist, Viktor’s fingers under his chin, Viktor’s over-blue eyes so close to his own. Yuuri panicked and hastily backed away, bumping into the wall behind him. Viktor didn’t look bothered by Yuuri’s panic, but if he’d looked close enough at the time, Yuuri would’ve seen a glint in those blue eyes that told another story.

            When Viktor asked him why he was running away Yuuri was only able to stutter a hasty, “no reason,” before excusing himself for the night. Yuuri spent the next few days running from Viktor as well. Only small things; but they added up. One night Viktor wanted to sleep in Yuuri’s room; why, Yuuri didn’t know, but he kept the door locked that night. The following day Yuuri barely managed to get out of a conversation about any girlfriends he might’ve had. He avoided bathing with Viktor and he was reluctant about any sightseeing with the man. If Viktor noticed that Yuuri was running from him, he never mentioned it, to Yuuri’s relief.

            Yuuri felt bad about running from Viktor, he really did, but he wasn’t quite comfortable with Viktor as his coach instead of his idol, so he would continue to run, for a time.

            It wasn’t until Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian punk, showed up that Yuuri was forced to pause in his stride and look back. Yuri’s appearance posed a threat to Yuuri’s last chance at winning the Grand Prix final, so Yuuri had to ensure that Viktor stuck around. Yuuri had to meet Viktor halfway, which meant that he had to stop running and face the fact that he did indeed want Viktor to coach him; he wanted to skate with Viktor—win with Viktor.

            First, that meant getting through the _On Love: Eros_ routine that Viktor had assigned to him. Yuuri had absolutely no idea how to perform the program Viktor choreographed. He was good on the technical stuff; the jumps and step work, but the actual being sexy part had him stumped. He wasn’t the bachelor with blinding charm that Viktor was, nor could he pull it off.

            “So, about composition; what quads can you land?” Viktor was straight and to the point.

            “The toe loop, but never the Salchow in competition,” Yuuri paused for a moment. “But I think I can, if I try!”

            “You lack confidence Yuuri, and it’s my job to give you that confidence. You need to find your _eros_ ,” Viktor glided forward, fitting his skate right in between Yuuri’s stance, his thumb brushing against Yuuri’s lips and fingers tilting his chin up. “It may be an alluring side of you that you yourself don’t even know,” Yuuri was frozen, unable to look away from Viktor; ice blue eyes framed by lashes so blonde they looked silver, staring with attention solely on Yuuri alone. “Can you show me what it is, soon?” Yuuri could feel Viktor’s breath ghost across his lips, feel Viktor’s nose brush against his own; the Russian was so close. Yuuri was panicking, again, he needed to step away, needed to ru—

            “Oi, Viktor! Aren’t you teaching me first!?” Yuuri sagged in relief as Viktor stepped away to teach Yurio the choreography for the _Agape_ piece. Yuuri didn’t run from Viktor that time, but it was a near thing.

\--

            “I’m going to become the tastiest pork cutlet bowl, just watch me. Promise?” Yuuri was nervous, scared, and desperate to win. His performance of _Eros_ had to be the best yet, or Viktor would leave, and that was something Yuuri _really_ didn’t want. Yuuri needed his version of _Eros_ to seduce Viktor into staying in Japan as his coach.

            “Of course, I love pork cutlet bowls,” Yuuri was shocked by Viktor’s response. _He couldn’t mean…? No, no! I love pork cutlet bowls too, just go out there and seduce him with your_ Eros, _Yuuri!_

\--

            Yuuri’s _Eros_ turned out to be more than enough; Yurio returned to Russia and Viktor stayed on as Yuuri’s coach. Yuuri was extremely happy that Viktor would be staying in Japan to train with him, but felt more awkward around the man than ever before. The exchange just before his performance at the Onsen on Ice had been replaying in Yuuri’s head for days, and he couldn’t get his feelings straight. _Viktor is my idol, and now my coach, that must be why I’m so nervous around him still. Yes, that’s it!_

            For a while Yuuri was good, he was learning to be more relaxed with Viktor around, his training was going well, and he was enjoying how everything had calmed down after the Onsen on Ice. There were still little things that he avoided doing with Viktor; sleeping in the same room and general goofing off were a few, but overall Yuuri was trying to stop running from the man who had only ever helped him. For the most part Yuuri was able to forget their ‘awkward’ exchanges before his performance as well, which was a step up from agonizing over it. The feelings that were stirring in Yuuri weren’t gone or shoved aside, though. His cheeks would heat up whenever Viktor got to close, which was _a lot_ , his heart rate would quicken when the Russian turned his _oh so blue_ eyes on Yuuri, even outside of physical exertion. Yuuri didn’t face his shifting feelings however, instead he ignored them, ran from them—he was good at that.

            Bathing with Viktor made it especially hard for Yuuri to ignore those feelings, though. Yuuri was used to bathing with other people, having grown up around a family run hot spring, but Viktor blatantly showed his body off—who wouldn’t with the shape he was in, but it put Yuuri in an awkward state of mind. He was caught between wanting to look away and wanting to really _look_ at every part of Viktor. He wanted to trace every part of Viktor’s supple—no, no! Yuuri clapped himself on the cheeks and shook his head at his train of thought. Viktor was saying something about his free program composition; he should focus on that instead.

            “Maybe we should nix having three quads in the free program?” When Yuuri tuned back in he was irritated by what he heard and turned to give Viktor a piece of his mind—which was a mistake. Viktor was prone; stretching before bathing. Yuuri felt his face go hot and quickly whipped back around.

            “I-if I want to win, I n-need those!” his voice was too loud in the private bath, but Viktor didn’t comment, and instead went on about other components that Yuuri would excel at instead of the quads. Yuuri sighed in relief; if Viktor noticed how flustered he had become he ignored it, and Yuuri could go on pretending everything was fine. He put his head on the cool rock to soak up some of the chill against his too-hot face. Viktor was still talking about something, but Yuuri was lost in his own thoughts, until Viktor grabbed both of his hands and hoisted him halfway out of the water; kneeling in front of him. Yuuri eyes were blown wide as he stared pointedly at the Russian’s face, _not_ at his perfectly sculpted body.

            “I was drawn to you, Yuuri, because of the music you create with your body when you skate. I chose to become your coach because I feel that I am the only one who can create a program that will truly allow you to shine,” Viktor’s eyes were shining with pride and…something else that Yuuri couldn’t quite place. “The short program validated it!” Yuuri was unable to get a word in edgewise before he was being dragged completely out of the water.

            Viktor’s hands were places Yuuri was pretty sure went beyond the coach/skater boundary. Fingertips brushed under his ribs and a hand came up to stretch his left leg in a figure skating pose--if Yuuri thought that trying to ignore the fact that they were both naked before was hard, this tested his limits and then some. _Don’t focus where he’s touching, don’t!_ It took every ounce of self-control to focus solely on what Viktor was saying, _not_ where he was touching Yuuri’s naked body.

            When Yuuri was able to, mostly, shove the thoughts of Viktor’s hands on his skin to the back of his mind, the Russian was telling Yuuri to choose his own music for the free skate. This snapped Yuuri out of his inner turmoil and back into reality.

            “My coaches always choose my music,” he explained quickly.

            “I think you should choose your own this time.”

            “B-but, my previous coach--!” Viktor’s hand was sliding down Yuuri’s leg, hoisting it higher into the stretch.

            “Who was your previous coach again?” Viktor’s voice had a hint of mischief that set Yuuri worrying. He was saved from having to respond when an elderly man mumbled something that was barely audible through one of the sliding doors into the showers. Startled Yuuri quickly stepped away from Viktor, hopping slightly until the Russian released his ankle. Where Viktor’s hand had been was tingling and oddly cold without Viktor’s touch. Yuuri frowned at this new discovery; Viktor was his coach, and a _man!_

            Yuuri shook his head and left for the showers; he would still have to answer Viktor about the choice of music for his free program.

\--

           The fourth time Yuuri ran from Viktor was because of an embarrassing outburst, or more precisely, the outburst served as the catalyst. The real reason Yuuri ran from Viktor was the same as when he ran all that time ago at the Grand Prix final; he didn’t want Viktor to see all of his faults.

            The outburst occurred when Viktor was pushing Yuuri to think more on his skating, taking influence from love—like the love of a girlfriend, but Yuuri had never felt that kind of love, and so he became irritated with Viktor. He apologized of course, but when Viktor thought out loud about Yuuri’s lack of girlfriend, Yuuri felt all of his insecurities surface again. So, to prevent any further incidents like that, he took to avoiding Viktor again. Yuuri avoided bathing with him, sightseeing with him, and even eating with him in the dining room at the hot spring. To make matters worse Yuuri felt…colder without Viktor around. He avoided the Russian on purpose, but it felt like he was hurting himself by doing so. Add the guilt Yuuri already felt to the new sensation of something like separation anxiety and it equals a lot of sleepless hours at night, so he was often late to practices as well. Viktor stopped commenting on his tardiness, but the slight narrowing of those luminous eyes told Yuuri everything he needed to know; Viktor was disappointed.

            Yuuri felt a wedge drive itself between him and Viktor, but he didn’t do anything to bridge it, and it was all his fault. He felt his chance at redemption at the Grand Prix final slowly slipping out of his grasp. He felt the spark of friendship between him and Viktor begin to sputter, and he felt _guilty._

            One morning, Yuuri was still in bed when he should have been at practice, but he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, so he tossed and turned on the mattress.

            “I can’t take this guilt anymore!” he practically shouted at himself. At that exact moment his door burst open and a rush of air by the sudden displacement of said door carried the crisp scent of citrus and evergreen shampoo and the mixture of metal and ice; _Viktor._ Yuuri knew there would be no escaping today—he was in for a major lecture.

            “Good morning, Yuuri! Let’s go to the ocean today!” Viktor’s voice sounded only slightly irritated, but Yuuri still felt his heart leap into his throat. _I’m dead._

\--

            The fifth, and last time Yuuri ran from Viktor was later that day, at the ocean. Yuuri tried to place his coach at arms’ length; he ran from the developing feelings for the Russian.

            The walk from the hot spring had been silent and awkward. Viktor had tried to lighten the mood, but Yuuri obstinately refused to respond to the Russian. When they had reached the ocean, Yuuri flung himself down on the sand and pulled his knees to his chest as he gazed into the grey horizon. Viktor sat gently beside him and Makkachin nosed his way under Viktor’s arm. They sat in silence. Yuuri was waiting for the inevitable lecture about being more responsive to his coach, about taking criticism better, and about being more responsible. It never came; instead Viktor commented on the seagulls that were flying. He told Yuuri about how he never thought that he’d leave St. Petersburg as a teenager, how he never expected to be where he was. Yuuri decided that maybe now would be a good time to open up. He told Viktor of a time in Detroit when his personal feelings and space were infringed upon; and how he felt because of it. He told Viktor why he kept people at arm’s length, and why he was so good at running. Viktor went silent again for a bit, then;

            “What do you want me to be to you, Yuuri? A father figure?”

            “No…” Yuuri mumbled.

            “A brother, a friend?” Yuuri only hummed a negative.

            “Then, a boyfriend! I will do my best!” Yuuri’s heart stopped. _No. He couldn’t be serious…!?_ Yuuri panicked and shot up from the sand.

            “No no no no no!” Yuuri waved his arms in panic. “I want you to stay who you are Viktor; my idol—someone who I look up to.” There. He was running from his feelings for the man, again. If Viktor remained at arm’s length, just out of Yuuri’s reach, then Yuuri could pretend that such feelings never existed and he wouldn’t have to sort them out. This, this was good—easy.

            Viktor seemed to accept it, and they continued their normal routine. They built on their trust, worked out the music for Yuuri’s free program, practiced jumps, and finalized composition. It was all going smoothly; Yuuri’s feelings for Viktor were firmly locked in the back of his mind and he gave them no room to stretch or grow. Things were good for Yuuri, for a time at least.

            The feelings that Yuuri had tried so valiantly to lock away wouldn’t stay where they were put—they were hell-bent on breaking free, and break free they would.

            It wasn’t until days before the Championship that Yuuri realized he couldn’t keep running from his feelings and still remain sane enough to skate properly. So, he embraced his feelings; realized that there would be no changing them and accepted that though Viktor might not feel the same, his feelings would still be there. Obviously he wouldn’t be telling Viktor but he would stop running from the small touches that seemed to be ingrained into Viktor’s being, stop running from the infringement into his personal space, and he would enjoy the time he had with Viktor.

            Yuuri felt refreshed and lighter after deciding to stop running from Viktor…and himself—who he was. He was still extremely nervous about the Spring Cup, but he also felt like everything would work out.

            Work out it did. Not only did Yuuri win the event, but he learned that he was also a skater that inspired others, and his time with Viktor had him over the moon. Having the famous Viktor Nikiforov applying your lip chap with those _oh so long_ fingers would send anyone into a daze.  Of course, there were also those hugs, those hugs that bordered on outright sexual embraces between two lovers. Yet, that was what made Viktor so appealing to Yuuri; the way the man was so unpredictable and unreadable, like a spring storm. In his wake was either devastation or blooming life, one just had to know how to endure it.

            When Yuuri had stopped running he felt like the blooming life left in the wake of the storm, the key was not to take shelter and protect yourself, but to take what you could from the deluge and use it to your advantage. So, Yuuri did just that; he soaked what he could from Viktor’s onslaught, and used it to his bolster himself. Of course, this also served to encourage Viktor, but Yuuri didn’t mind, he would make it work.

\--

            The press conference after the Championship was a blur to Yuuri, he was almost positive that he had just confessed his love for Viktor to all of Japan on national television. The moment had gotten away from him, and was already flustered from the lights and the cameras. He held his face in his hands and sat in silence in Yuko’s car. _I’m just glad Viktor’s grasp of Japanese is limited._ Yuuri still had to face his friends and family about it though, which had him worried. After a solid twenty minutes of his internal struggle Yuuko broke the silence.

           “You know Yuuri, we all know you care for Viktor. You’re still you, and we are glad that you have Viktor; he’s made you stronger,” Yuuko’s voice was soft, but firm. She didn’t take her eyes off the road, but Yuuri could see the happiness in the gentle curve of her lips. Breathing a sigh of relief Yuuri sat back against the seat.

           “…thank you, Yuuko.”

\--

           When Yuuri got back to the hot spring Viktor and Minako were already mostly drunk. His coach was in his favourite robe and sprawled on the floor. Minako was still sitting upright, but swayed where she sat. Yuuri’s mom was trying to take the sake from Minako whilst simultaneously getting Viktor to sit up and finish his food. Yuuri chuckled. _How things have changed since Viktor was only a face on the posters in my room._

           Makkachin interrupted Yuuri’s thoughts with a very enthusiastic greeting.

          “Yes, hello, hello!” His voice caught the attention of the room.

          “Yuuri, you’re back! Congratulations!” Minako slurred as she got up and stumbled over to give him a hug.

           Viktor also rolled over on the floor and smiled at him, a small smile, but Yuuri could see the pride shining in Viktor’s eyes. His heart clenched. _He’s beautiful._ He tried to smile back, but it felt a bit wobbly on his face.

          “Thank you everyone for your support! I’m a bit tired so I’m going to turn in,” Yuuri bowed before his family and friends, offered a genuine smile, and quickly escaped to his room.

\--

          The next few days were the same as usual; they practiced, Viktor drank, they ate, and they slept under the same roof. What was different was Yuuri himself. Yuuri craved Viktor’s attention; his touch. He was sure that Viktor had noticed the difference by now. Yuuri no longer avoided Viktor the way that he used to—quite the opposite. Yet, Viktor was the same as ever, he coached the same, offered the same brutally honest criticisms, and Yuuri loved him for it.

\--

         The China Cup arrived faster than Yuuri expected; before long they were booked into their hotel and planning hotpot after an interview. Yuuri was overwhelmed, the environment, the pressure, and Viktor’s over the top attentions were beginning to drain him. He was no longer running from his feelings for his coach, but that didn’t mean that he threw them into Viktor’s face at every chance he got; holding himself back was stressful in its own way. His fingers constantly twitched with the desire to run his fingers through the silver-blonde strands that he had touched for a brief moment during a practice at the Ice Castle, his body grew hot when Viktor was close, and his heart beat wildly.

\--

         Yuuri’s short program was his best yet. He didn’t know what came over him moments before taking to the ice, but he felt invincible; riding that wave he took a leap and intertwined his fingers with Viktor’s, bumping their foreheads together. For a moment they breathed the same air.

        “Don’t take your eyes off of me,” and then Yuuri was gone, gliding onto the ice like he owned the place. Viktor was his, and his alone. If the world wanted to hate Yuuri for occupying Viktor’s attention, then so be it. He would take that hate in, use it, and throw it all back at them while he was on the ice, but he was not willing to relinquish Viktor, that much was certain.

        When Yuuri received his score Viktor leaned in and breathed words of encouragement into his ear, and Yuuri was lost. _Ah, now he’s done it._

        That night was the first time Yuuri masturbated to thoughts of Viktor.

\--

            He shouldn’t have called home. He knew, _knew,_ that he’d feel a sense of responsibility to maintain his lead, maintain that level of performance once he talked to them, but he called anyways. Yuuri just didn’t have the mental fortitude to deal with that kind of pressure, nothing new there. Yet, it might not have been so hard on him this time if it wasn’t for the stray thoughts of Viktor that kept popping into his head.

            Viktor would be telling him something, related to his program of course, but Yuuri would find himself transfixed on the Russian’s lips, wondering how soft they would be, how they would feel sliding over his skin.

            It was no wonder that Viktor took one look at Yuuri and guessed that he hadn’t slept. _Of course I didn’t._ Not with thoughts of the Russian competing with thoughts of failure for his attention all night.

\--

            “V-Viktor! What’re you--?”

            “Shhh Yuuri, I was able to nap before a performance, just take it easy for a bit,” Viktor’s fingers hooked themselves under the hem of Yuuri’s tee shirt and quickly yanked it over his head. His pants followed shortly after. Viktor was undressing him, but not in the way he would have preferred. Viktor was all business, roughly manhandling him into a futon and then tucking the blanket around him. What Yuuri didn’t expect however, was Viktor curled up against him, head on Yuuri’s chest, and fast asleep. _He expects me to sleep **now**? _

            Yuuri could feel the shallow puffs of breath against the thing blanket covering his skin. He could feel the steady rhythm of Viktor’s pulse reverberating through him, shaking his resolve. Yuuri desperately wanted to free his hand and run it through Viktor’s hair, down the planes of his back, lower, lower. Yuuri bit the inside of his mouth so hard he tasted blood, but the pain kept his mind off…other things; it would be embarrassing for Viktor to wake up whilst Yuuri was in the middle of an erection.

\--

            “Yuuri, you didn’t nap, did you?”

            “I dozed off, a bit,” it wasn’t a complete lie, there was about a good half hour where he focused on Viktor’s breathing and tried to fall asleep to that, but then the man shifted and brought all of Yuuri’s attention back to where their bodies came into contact.

            “Hmm,” Viktor didn’t sound like he was buying it. “I forbid you from doing any jumps in the six minute warm-up!”

            “B-but…!”

            “Or can you not take orders from your coach?” Viktor suddenly loomed over Yuuri, his presence imposing and dominating. Yuuri just nodded, but ignored Viktor anyways—he fell, and then felt even worse.

            He saw skater after skater put out excellent performances, and he felt worse and worse. Yuuri knew he was going to mess up; it wouldn’t be the first time. He’d let his family and friends down, he’d let Viktor down, and worst of all; his failure would reflect terribly on Viktor. Yuuri would single handedly be responsible for Viktor’s decline in the figure skating world.

            “Alright Yuuri, let’s go warm up where there aren’t as many people!” Viktor caught his collar and dragged him to a parking garage. Yuuri knew he’d be up soon, but let Viktor drag him away anyways—there would be no calming him down now, but if it made Viktor more comfortable, where was the harm?

            Yuuri removed his ear buds in time to hear the cacophony of cheers for Phichit. _He must’ve done really well._ The despair he felt must have been written all over his face, for Viktor was lurching forward and covering his ears against the hum of the crowd.

            “Don’t listen!” the panic on Viktor’s face was almost enough to cut through his personal anguish, _almost_. _I guess he’s worried…but for me, or because I might let him down?_ Yuuri reached up and gently closed his hands around Viktor’s wrists. _Savor this, it might be the last time you’re this close to him._

            “It’s almost time, we should get going, Viktor.” Yuuri applied a bit of pressure and removed Viktor’s hands from his ears, slowly letting them drop away. He brushed past the Russian, but he didn’t get far before Viktor called out to him.

            “Yuuri.”

            “Yes…?”

            “If you mess up and miss the podium, I will take responsibility as your coach and resign.” _No. He...he can’t mean…!_ A thousand doubts went through Yuuri’s head then, and all he could do was stare back at his coach. Viktor’s own face looked pensive, as if he were waiting for something terrible from Yuuri, but hoping otherwise.

            Then, the tears started. How could they not, after what Viktor had just said to him; he had just shattered what was left of Yuuri’s confidence…and his heart.

            “How could you say something like that, as if you’re trying to test me!? I’m used to my failures reflecting badly on me, but now they reflect on you too!” Yuuri was full on crying now, tears flowed freely down his face, and his voice shook. “I’ve been wondering if you secretly wanted to quit!”

            “I don’t--”

            “I know!” Viktor’s eyes widened, and then he looked away in shame.

            “I don’t know what to do when people cry in front of me, should I just kiss you or something?” _Yes!_ Yuuri wanted to scream. _Yes, kiss me, hold onto me, and love me as I love you!_ But, Yuuri controlled himself; now was not the time for that.

            “No! You don’t need to say anything! Just believe, more than I do, that I’ll win!” Yuuri turned his face away and rubbed the tears away, but they kept coming. He didn’t say anything else, and Viktor wordlessly handed him a tissue.

. They returned to the rink in time for Yuuri’s free program.

\--

            He poked Viktor’s head like he had all that time ago during practice at the Ice Castle. _Ah, his hair is just as soft._ With a gentle pat—I forgive you, Yuuri skated onto the ice.

\--

            _I wonder how Viktor will react if I make the last quad a flip?_ He did. He fell, but the rotations were there. _Better than I expected._ Yuuri was calm, his mind felt clear and focused, even at the end of the routine. _Is Viktor going to be mad?_ He finished in time with the music, soaking up the roar of the crowd when the music faded. He looked at Viktor—the man was unreadable. Yuuri bowed and then looked to the exit of the ice, where Viktor now stood--smiling. With a sigh of relief he rushed over.

            “Viktor! I did great, didn’t I?” Nothing could have prepared Yuuri for what happened next. One minute he was skating towards Viktor, the next he was staring at the ceiling. _Wow, there are a lot of crossbeams up there._ Then he blinked and refocused, and it felt like slow motion. Viktor was embracing him, lips moist and headed straight for his own. Yuuri’s own eyes were wide as he watched Viktor’s flutter closed. Then, Viktor’s lips were on his own, soft, gentle, warm despite the chill of the rink, and everything Yuuri had imagined them to be. Viktor tasted slightly of mint and oolong. _Ah, it’s that stuff he’s been addicted to recently._

            When time seemed to resume as normal, Yuuri was lying on his back on the ice, Viktor’s head buried in the crook of his neck; breathing erratic.

            “That was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you surprised me,” Viktor leaned back to look at him, and Yuuri was caught in those eyes, the pride and joy shining in them.

            “…really?” Yuuri’s heart was beating erratically, the physical exertion of the program, and now the fact that Viktor had _kissed_ him were catching up. _What…does this mean? Does Viktor have feelings for me? Or, was that just something to try and surprise me…because it was a surprise alright._

\--

            The rest of the day was a blur for Yuuri. He got his scores—coming solidly in second place felt really, _really,_ good. He congratulated Phichit on his win, did a few interviews (none mentioned the kiss), hugged Minako (who also didn’t mention the kiss), and then left the venue.

            The ride back to the hotel was quiet. Yuuri was replaying his program in his head, and then trying to categorize what that kiss had meant. Viktor didn’t seem to want to talk either, so Yuuri just looked out of his window and tried to sort out his own feelings. _I know I care for Viktor, and I have finally come to accept that. Does he care for me in the same way, or is stuff like that just built into the person that Viktor is?_

            “Yuuri, we’re here,” Viktor’s gentle tone brought him out of his thoughts. They were back at the hotel, and Yuuri had been too absorbed to even notice.

            “Oh! Ah, right!” he stuttered as he hurried to grab his duffle bag out of the back. They paid the cab driver and then made their way inside. Yuuri had every intention of going back to his own room, showering, and then flopping on his bed to sleep. He also had every intention of trying to forget the way Viktor’s lips had felt against his own. Viktor however, had other intentions.

            As he went to unlock his own door, Yuuri suddenly found himself pinned against it. Viktor was pressed against him, crushing him into the lock pad.

            “Viktor…!” Yuuri grunted at the sudden weight. Viktor’s breath was hot against the back of his neck, and Yuuri felt gooseflesh forming where the puffs of breath caressed his skin. Viktor didn’t say anything, just reached around Yuuri to take the keycard out of his hand and unlock the door. It was a bit awkward, considering how tightly Yuuri was pressed against it, but Viktor made it work.

            Yuuri stumbled through the threshold when the lock released and the door swung open. He managed to avoid falling on his face, but barely recovered before the duffle bag was ripped from his grip and Yuuri himself was being thrown down onto the bed. 

            “Viktor! What has gotten into you!?” Yuuri gasped out as Viktor wiggled out of his suit jacket and climbed on top of Yuuri.

            “I didn’t plan for it to happen this way, but it seems that I can’t hold back any longer now that I’ve had a taste of you, Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice was strained and breathy, his hair was slightly mussed, and his cheeks were dusted with the lightest pink. Yuuri decided that he had never seen a more beautiful sight, not even when Viktor was skating.

            Yuuri’s thoughts were interrupted when Viktor leaned down and licked at his pulse before peppering soft kisses down the side of his throat and back up to the line of his jaw. When Viktor sat back again there was a mischievous smile turning up the corners of his mouth; only a few quick kisses had already turned Yuuri into a panting mess.  Yuuri was hyper-aware of everything concerning Viktor; where his hands were on either side of Yuuri’s head, where his knees squeezed on Yuuri’s hips, how Viktor seemed to hold himself up just enough so that they were barely brushing.

            “V-Viktor…” Yuuri groaned, how had this managed to escalate so quickly? Yuuri had barely had time for his fantasies catch up to his feelings for Viktor and now the Russian was kneeling over him, looking devastating and downright _hungry._

            “Shh, Yuuri, you’re not running from me anymore,” Viktor leaned down to whisper in Yuuri’s ear. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, I recognized the look right away; I also look at you the same way. I’ve wanted you since I watched that video, Yuuri.” Viktor’s voice, low and gruff, sent shivers up and down Yuuri’s spine. _Viktor wants…me!?_ Yuuri’s eyes must have shown his surprise because Viktor chuckled.

            “Yes Yuuri, _I_ want to make love to _you_.”

            “Viktor, I-I…since…you,” Yuuri’s voice was barely functional, and his mind was a jumbled mess.

            “I know, I know,” Viktor’s hand came up to cradle Yuuri’s neck and Viktor brought his face close enough that their noses were brushing. “I love you too.” And Yuuri was lost. In one quick movement he lifted his head and captured Viktor’s lips with a quiet grunt. This kiss was nothing like the one they shared on the rink, this kiss was full of lust and months of feelings held in check.

            Viktor moaned and deepened the kiss; laying Yuuri back down onto the pillow and licking his way into Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri was lost in the sensation of kissing Viktor, he didn’t know how much time had passed, but he was beginning to feel lightheaded. With a gasp Viktor broke the kiss, and Yuuri was pleased to note that Viktor was just as affected by the kiss.

            Without skipping a beat, Viktor settled in between Yuuri’s thighs and let some of his weight rest on Yuuri, who hummed in pleasure at the contact. Yuuri brought his knees up to bring Viktor even closer, and moaned when the man’s hips rubbed against his growing erection.

           “Hmm, Yuuri, that didn’t take long at all,” Viktor teased as he trailed his fingers down Yuuri’s chest to slip them under the hem of his tee-shirt.

           “Viktor…I’m…hurry!”

           “I guess you’re right Yuuri, it’s been a long day, we can take our time next time,” Viktor hummed and then sprang into action; roughly removing Yuuri’s shirt by pulling it up over his head and flinging it somewhere on the floor. Yuuri’s own hands fumbled with the buttons on Viktor’s shirt before giving up and just ripping the shirt open. Viktor growled as several buttons went flying and dove in for another rough kiss. He shrugged out of the ruined shirt and also threw it on the floor. They were a heated frenzy of messy kisses, rough touches and desperation to divest themselves of clothing.

          Viktor yanked Yuuri’s pants and boxers off in one go and Yuuri gasped when the cool air rushed over his erection.

          “Yours…too…” Yuuri panted before he let Viktor do anything else. With a small smile Viktor removed his own boxers and Yuuri hungrily eyed Viktor’s erection. He’d seen Viktor naked several times before, but when Viktor was visibly straining and solely focused on Yuuri, it was a different feeling, something more akin to being hunted; but definitely not unpleasant. All at once Viktor moved completely off the bed, and Yuuri was briefly left wondering if Viktor had changed his mind. His fears were quickly assuaged when Viktor kneeled over Yuuri with a small, travel-sized bottle of lube. Yuuri's breath left him in a groan as Viktor applied the slick substance to his own cock before reaching out to coat Yuuri's straining erection. When Viktor was satisfied he tossed the bottle onto the bed, Yuuri's eyes followed its bounce briefly before the shift of Viktor's weight on the bed brought his attention to the man on his hands and knees over him.

          Viktor leaned forward and pressed their twitching cocks together, slowly thrusting his hips to create friction. Viktor’s face was scrunched in concentration, those ice blue eyes glazed over with lust as he stared down at Yuuri. A sudden flick of Viktor’s hips had Yuuri throwing his head back and moaning deep in his throat; it took everything he had to not finish right there.  

          When he refocused Viktor was smirking down at him. _This man._ Yuuri only grunted in response, twitching his own hips up to let Viktor know that he wanted more. Viktor brought his hand up and placed two fingers against the seal of Yuuri’s lips, applying gentle pressure so that Yuuri would get the point. Yuuri opened without hesitation and sucked on the slender digits, coating them in his saliva. Viktor didn’t linger long and soon removed his fingers from Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri didn’t have to imagine what Viktor was going to do next because he immediately felt Viktor’s fingertips pressing at his entrance.

          Yuuri gasped at the dull sensation. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was bordering on uncomfortable.

         “Just a little bit Yuuri, I don’t want to hurt you,” Viktor murmured as the first finger breached the ring of muscle. Yuuri groaned at the intrusion. “A little more Yuuri, it will get better.” Yuuri trusted Viktor so he flung his head back against the pillow and panted while Viktor continued to stretch and prod to loosen the muscle.

         It didn’t take long before Viktor was adding a second finger, and Yuuri’s insides clenched when he imagined what would come after. _This is really happening…_ Yuuri’s thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when Viktor curled his fingers; Yuuri moaned deeply and arched into the touch, wanting more, _more._

         “I guess I found it,” came the smug response.

         “Found…what?” Yuuri panted.

         “The spot I should aim for.” _Oh, god._ It took all of Yuuri’s willpower not to come untouched at those words. “Look at me, Yuuri.” The command in Viktor’s voice couldn’t be ignored, so Yuuri did.

          The sight that greeted him stole his breath. Viktor was kneeling in between Yuuri’s spread thighs, sitting upright. His cheeks were dusted with a deeper pink than before, his hair completely mussed from having Yuuri’s fingers entangled in the strands. One of Viktor’s hands was languidly stroking his cock while he smirked at Yuuri's undone expression. He leaned slightly over and retrieved the almost forgotten bottle of lube, never breaking eye contact. Viktor squeezed a generous amount over his fingers and re-slicked his cock before reaching down and coating Yuuri's entrance with slow caresses. Yuuri groaned again and Viktor leaned forward to give Yuuri a quick, heated kiss.

         “I’m going to fuck you now.”

         And he did. Viktor spread Yuuri’s legs impossibly wide and pressed himself forward unceremoniously. He was gentle, but insistent; Yuuri could sense the Russian’s impatience and didn’t mind the slight discomfort in the pace Viktor set. The soft moans that the man let out as he slid into Yuuri made up for any discomfort Yuuri felt; they reminded him that Viktor was just as affected by Yuuri as Yuuri was by him.

         It didn’t take long before Viktor was fully sheathed inside Yuuri; the sensation was like nothing Yuuri had ever felt before. He felt full and so _, so_ good.

        “Viktor, move,” he managed to gasp out. Viktor moved. With a quick snap of his hips he pulled out and then thrust completely back into Yuuri, who yelped at the sudden movement. Viktor did the same thing again, and again; developing a rhythm. The bed creaked under them, and if Yuuri cared to in that moment, he would tell Viktor to be quieter because the residents in the rooms next door could most likely hear what was happening.

         Yuuri knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out long against Viktor’s demanding pace, and when he felt the familiar clenching at the base of his cock, he knew he was close.

        “V-Viktor…I-I…”

        “Me too,” Viktor panted as he continued his relentless thrusts into Yuuri. Viktor moved one hand down in between their bodies to grip Yuuri’s cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. Fire filled Yuuri’s veins as his orgasm hit, and he was yelling Viktor’s name into the dark room as he rode out the waves of his pleasure. As he was coming down from the high of his orgasm he heard Viktor grunt loudly before a warmth was coating his stomach. Yuuri felt suddenly empty compared to the feeling of being filled only seconds ago, but he was sated and pleasantly sore.

          Viktor untangled their legs and promptly set about cleaning the mess they had both made off of Yuuri’s stomach and chest. Yuuri blushed as Viktor cleaned him off; gentle and attentive, occasionally sneaking a quick kiss in the process.

            Viktor disappeared into the bathroom, and Yuuri heard the water running. _I just had sex with Viktor Nikiforov…!_ Before any form of self-doubt could imbed itself in Yuuri’s mind Viktor was returning.

            “You’re not having regrets, are you Yuuri?” The Russian laid himself down beside Yuuri and pulled the blankets over their nakedness.

            “No, I’m just thinking about how I never thought that I’d have sex with Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri chuckled at how surreal it sounded.

            “Oh? This won’t be the last time either, Yuuri. You’re mine now,” Viktor pulled Yuuri flush against him and tucked the younger man’s head under his chin. “And I won’t let you run away so easily.” Yuuri found that he didn’t care to point out that he wasn’t some property to be owned; he was done running from Viktor.

            _I am in love with Viktor Nikiforov, and he with_ me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I have been working on this one for a while, but I'm finally satisfied with it. I hope you guys enjoy it. I finished this one just after episode 7 came out, so it diverges into my own head canon after that point (aka what I imagined happened after that kiss!) I also added and subtracted a few things that I felt would make the story line for the purpose of this fic flow better.  
> I don't own Yuri!! On Ice or any of the characters.  
> Reisil.


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